28 Weeks LaterThe Tag
by theicemenace
Summary: Just a little tag for when Flynn flies off with Tammy and Andy. *Warning: Dark themes*


**A/N: **This is a tag to the movie, 28 Weeks Later…

**28 Weeks Later**

**Flynn's Rescue of Tammy and Andy**

"Stop!" Flynn slid easily out of the chopper, his weapon trained on the two people coming toward him through the tall grass. They obeyed, the girl placing herself between the rifle and the boy. "Where's Doyle?" The girl's eyes were wide and unfocused, as if she'd finally reached the limits of her endurance as well as her sanity. "Where's Doyle?!"

She shook her head, the boy peeking around her shoulder. They were both covered in filth and blood though neither of them appeared to be injured. Quietly, so soft that Flynn could barely hear her, she said, "It's just us."

Lowering the rifle, Flynn waved them over. No matter what he told Doyle, he couldn't leave two traumatized kids alone in the middle of chaos. Still suspicious, he said, "Come on. Get in. Come on!"

Neither trusted the other, but they didn't have a choice. If what Doyle said was true, these kids were more important than anyone else, including himself. There had to be a good reason Doyle gave up his chance at getting out alive to save these kids. Something that had to do with the virus. What if they had immunity? It would more than make them worth dying for if something in their blood could cure the rage virus. And he trusted Doyle with his life. He said they were important and as far as Flynn was concerned, that was the end of the story.

Flynn fired up the chopper, and once in the air, he gave them headsets. "What happened to Doyle?"

The girl, her blonde hair matted with dirt, blood and who knew what else, turned from staring out the window at the white cliffs of Dover. "He's dead."

"How?"

"Saving us. The car wouldn't start. He got out to push it and was burned by men with flame throwers." She winced and touched her brother on the shoulder. "I can still hear him screaming. It was _horrible_."

"****!" He altered his fight path, aiming for the base in France. "I'm Flynn, by the way."

"I'm Tammy. This is Andy. Scarlett said we're immune like our mum."

Flynn took no joy in being right. Fact was he wouldn't be happy for a long, long time. When this tour was up, he was out of Delta Force and the Army. He and his wife had talked about him quitting to start his own business flying tours in the Grand Canyon or somewhere close to the Canadian border doubling his chances of making a go of it. "Relax. We'll be there before you know it."

~~O~~

Tammy was so exhausted she could barely stay awake, the sound of the chopper's rotors would be soothing if it weren't for the fact that falling asleep would cause her to dream. After six months in the refugee camp in Spain, the nightmares had stopped, but now they would come again whether she was sleeping or awake. Especially after being forced to kill her own father. He'd been attacking Andy, and when he turned toward her, she picked up the rifle and shot him. The stock of the rifle had been sticky with Scarlett's blood. Her dad had killed Scarlett with Doyle's rifle. They'd both given up their lives to rescue her and Andy. And Andy had run from her afterward, thinking that he would turn and try to kill her, but the only symptom of the virus was the red in his left eye. He hadn't turned yet, and that meant he was immune like their mum. Didn't it?

When they got wherever Flynn took them, she and Andy would be isolated from each other and everyone else. She understood and was certain he would as well.

Hugging the boy to her, she didn't want to let go, and he did the same. The front of her shirt felt wet, her stomach stinging, and she moved away to have a look. Dad's blood that had been on Andy was now on her, but she didn't care. Not until she realized that she'd been cut across her stomach giving the contaminated blood a way into her system.

Before she could warn Flynn and her brother, a sudden, sharp pain hit, stunning her with its ferocity. It moved through her body and into her brain making her head hurt so bad she screamed. She began foaming at the mouth and a terrible anger swept through her, building by the second. Clutching her head, she screamed again and it turned into a growl of rage at the end.

"Tam? Are you okay? Tam!"

"What's goin' on back there?" Flynn called out, but Tammy no longer heard or comprehended. Instinct drove her to leap on Andy, scratching, clawing and vomiting vast amounts of blood. He screamed at her to stop, but all other imperatives had been overwritten by the virus surging through her bloodstream, altering her brain chemistry.

Andy pulled out of her grasp, his face, arms and chest a bloody mess. Snarling out her rage, she went for the remaining occupant, not even hearing Andy calling out to her.

"Tam! Stop! You'll kill us! Tam!"

Now the other one was screaming, but not at her, the words having no meaning. All that mattered was killing and infecting. She dug her nails into Flynn's arms and chest to pull him close enough so that she could bite him-the surest way to pass on the virus. The chopper started see-sawing, throwing Andy back and forth until he was knocked unconscious.

As the virus took hold of Flynn, he no longer had the ability to pilot the chopper. It tilted to the left, the nose pointing at the ground, and moments later, it crashed and skidded across the field, pinwheeling around itself as the main rotors dug into the ground throwing the occupants around inside.

Andy hit the Plexiglas window so hard it smashed, driving a razor sharp piece into his chest, severing his aorta. He bled out in a matter of seconds. Tammy had been thrown forward to hit the windshield, breaking her neck and killing her instantly. Flynn lived just long enough to try to fight his way out, bloodying his fists and smashing his head against the control panel in an attempt to follow the virus's imperative. His life was extinguished by rail gun fire from one of the military choppers sent to intercept the unauthorized craft that hadn't responded to calls.

From above, the pilot and his passengers watched just long enough to ascertain that everyone was dead then the chopper made a looping one-eighty to continue its patrol of the coastline.

Inside the downed chopper, the radio continued to broadcast a signal, the disembodied voice threatening destruction if the pilot didn't return to England immediately.

Twenty-eight days later, the voice replaced by another interspersed with static as the chopper's battery lost power. "…we need your help."

Before long, the transmission stopped as well, the owner having been killed by the infected who had come through the tunnel into Paris. In the field where the wrecked chopper lay, the faded photograph of a woman and little girl fluttered in the breeze. Next to it was a child's drawing of a chopper. Above the drawing, two words were written: For Dad.

**Fini**


End file.
